For Tristan, there could be no force more vital or more undeniably important to human society than technology. As a member of the technician tribe for over twenty years, Tristan involved himself quite intimately in many of its developments, from his early designs for a more efficient electric lantern and the Radioactive Power Converter used by the scavenger tribe. However, Tristan’s current project was working on a second edition of the communicator developed years ago. The new design would include new features including a keyboard and quicker sending times. Tristan wanted to find ways to produce more electricity or use the available power more efficiently, but he supposes having an improved means of communication over long distances would also be beneficial to the public. After all, why else would the mutants of the Scavenger Tribe gather in their run-down ‘Mind Zone’ in the scavenger territory to try to form a hive mind, but out of the desire for to communicate and establish human connections. Besides, he is going to make the new generation of communicator more energy efficient as well.
The device used various chips, wires, and other components from cell phones and other pre-war electronics. Tristan had an untested prototype, but he used up the last of the scraps the technician’s got from the historian tribe to build it. Tristan needed to scavenge some more in case he found he had to change the design in testing and so he could produce more communicators if the prototype functions. The historian tribe had already given the technicians all the parts they possessed. Tristan tried the scavenger tribe and sent a few lower ranking engineers to Trading Bay and the Lambeau Trading Post for supplies, but the proper components could not be found.
Having failed to locate the parts elsewhere, Tristan turned to searching the claustrophobic storefronts of the artisan tribe’s territory. The early evening sky grew dark, and a chill wind stabbed through Tristan’s jacket as he navigated the deteriorating alleys between the artisan’s workshops looking for anyone who worked with metal or, hopefully, electronics. The dry, dusty scent of wood flakes, the clean set of well cared for metal, and the sharp scent of rusted metal permeated the whole neighborhood. Tristan paused in his advance every few minutes to wipe fog of his self-manufactured glasses, or pick his way over a drift of furniture that overflowed from a cluttered woodworker’s den. Tristan stopped at a few likely work-spaces to inquire after what he needed. However, at most of the shops no one responded from behind the darkened windows, and when Tristan found someone they quickly shook their heads and encouraged him to look elsewhere.
As Tristan continued on, he heard the sounds of footsteps and voices up ahead and saw the glow of lights around the next corner. The crowd talked all at once, so Tristan couldn’t pick out individual words. When Tristan looked around the corner, he saw a large crowd in dark clothes pushing through the streets. Most of the individuals were around the ages of 20 to 70, although Tristan thought he spied a child with messy brown hair near the back of the group. The crowd held a variety of tools from electric lanterns and torches for light, and kukris and trailblazer guns for something more violent.
Tristan did not take much interest in the activities of the other tribes , but he heard that the lake tribe often targeted the artisan tribe when looking for sacrifices to feed to their god, the giant alligator Lucky who lives in Lake Michigan. Tristan catapulted into one of the smaller alleyways as the fanatics turned into the street where he stood moments before, and found shelter behind an unfinished dresser. The military tribe recommended that Gator Bay residents carry a trailblazer gun or other weapon with them, so they had a means of self-defense in an emergency. However, Tristan overlooked this advice when preparing to visit the artisan tribe territory, besides his clothes and glasses Tristan had some MREs to trade for parts, the prototype communicator, and a Bats pack to power it. Without testing, the device might not even work if Tristan tried to call with it. Even if the prototype functioned, Tristan was not sure who he would contact. The technician tribe only made and distributed ten of the communicators, and among those, Tristan knew the location of three of them: the technician tribe kept one (by right of being the group who invented the device), the historian tribe held another (as repayment for the materials), and the third Tristan knew about belonged to the military tribe. The military tribe avoided getting involved in matters beyond their stockpiling of weapons, but they still tried to protect the populous and prevent infighting. They did not have the reach to stop all fighting in Gator Bay, but Tristan hoped that if he could reach the military tribe they would at least send some assistance. The lake tribe continued to spread throughout the nearby streets, Tristan knew they might find him at any moment. If Tristan wanted to survive, if he wanted to make it back to his tribe, he would have to pin his hopes on this ill-conceived plan, on this slim chance.
Tristan pulled out the communicator. He hurriedly turned the device around to inspect the various components as men stampeded around slamming open doors and tearing apart hiding places. Tristan made to sure check the wires held and Bat connected properly . He deftly switched the communicator on, and used the knobs to tune the device to the nearest tower. Thankfully, Tristan designed the new prototype to use the same towers and communication protocols as the previous version. Tristan sets the communication target to the military tribe’s communicator, and starts sending out his emergency broadcast. Tristan screws up his eyes and prays an internal mantra to the device, Please work! Let this work. As Tristan finished his message and releases the broadcast button, a loud crash broke his concentration as smoke and embers start to float into the air. … and please let them make it in time.
The device used various chips, wires, and other components from cell phones and other pre-war electronics. Tristan had an untested prototype, but he used up the last of the scraps the technician’s got from the historian tribe to build it. Tristan needed to scavenge some more in case he found he had to change the design in testing and so he could produce more communicators if the prototype functions. The historian tribe had already given the technicians all the parts they possessed. Tristan tried the scavenger tribe and sent a few lower ranking engineers to Trading Bay and the Lambeau Trading Post for supplies, but the proper components could not be found.
Having failed to locate the parts elsewhere, Tristan turned to searching the claustrophobic storefronts of the artisan tribe’s territory. The early evening sky grew dark, and a chill wind stabbed through Tristan’s jacket as he navigated the deteriorating alleys between the artisan’s workshops looking for anyone who worked with metal or, hopefully, electronics. The dry, dusty scent of wood
flakes, the clean set of well cared for metal, and the sharp scent of rusted metal permeated the whole neighborhood. Tristan paused in his advance every few minutes to wipe fog of his self-manufactured glasses, or pick his way over a drift of furniture that overflowed from a cluttered woodworker’s den. Tristan stopped at a few likely work-spaces to inquire after what he needed. However, at most of the shops no one responded from behind the darkened windows, and when Tristan found someone they quickly shook their heads and encouraged him to look elsewhere.
As Tristan continued on, he heard the sounds of footsteps and voices up ahead and saw the glow of lights around the next corner. The crowd talked all at once, so Tristan couldn’t pick out individual words. When Tristan looked around the corner, he saw a large crowd in dark clothes pushing through the streets. Most of the individuals were around the ages of 20 to 70, although Tristan thought he spied a child with messy brown hair near the back of the group. The crowd held a variety of tools from electric lanterns and torches for light, and kukris and trailblazer guns for something more violent.
Tristan did not take much interest in the activities of the other tribes , but he heard that the lake tribe often targeted the artisan tribe when looking for sacrifices to feed to their god, the giant alligator Lucky who lives in Lake Michigan. Tristan catapulted into one of the smaller alleyways as the fanatics turned into the street where he stood moments before, and found shelter behind an unfinished dresser. The military tribe recommended that Gator Bay residents carry a trailblazer gun or other weapon with them, so they had a means of self-defense in an emergency. However, Tristan overlooked this advice when preparing to visit the artisan tribe territory, besides his clothes and glasses Tristan had some MREs to trade for parts, the prototype communicator, and a Bats pack to power it. Without testing, the device might not even work if Tristan tried to call with it. Even if the prototype functioned, Tristan was not sure who he would contact. The technician tribe only made and distributed ten of the communicators, and among those, Tristan knew the location of three of them: the technician tribe kept one (by right of being the group who invented the device), the historian tribe held another (as repayment for the materials), and the third Tristan knew about belonged to the military tribe. The military tribe avoided getting involved in matters beyond their stockpiling of weapons, but they still tried to protect the populous and prevent infighting. They did not have the reach to stop all fighting in Gator Bay, but Tristan hoped that if he could reach the military tribe they would at least send some assistance. The lake tribe continued to spread throughout the nearby streets, Tristan knew they might find him at any moment. If Tristan wanted to survive, if he wanted to make it back to his tribe, he would have to pin his hopes on this ill-conceived plan, on this slim chance.
Tristan pulled out the communicator. He hurriedly turned the device around to inspect the various components as men stampeded around slamming open doors and tearing apart hiding places. Tristan made to sure check the wires held and Bat connected properly . He deftly switched the communicator on, and used the knobs to tune the device to the nearest tower. Thankfully, Tristan designed the new prototype to use the same towers and communication protocols as the previous version. Tristan sets the communication target to the military tribe’s communicator, and starts sending out his emergency broadcast. Tristan screws up his eyes and prays an internal mantra to the device, Please work! Let this work. As Tristan finished his message and releases the broadcast button, a loud crash broke his concentration as smoke and embers start to float into the air. … and please let them make it in time.